Personal Narrative: The American Identity

Studying in a foreign country is an interesting experience of an individual lifetime. One tends to learn a number of things relating to ways of life in a foreign land. Social, political and economic values and aspects are usually different from one region to another. Therefore, through studying abroad one is able to learn different issues about another society such as gender and sexuality issues, social class and race/ethnicity issues. Having come from a developing country studying in the U.S.A has been a great experience personally. This paper will attempt to provide a reflection of my personal experience on studying in the U.S by comparing the history of Angola and the U.S.

With that statement we get to the last part of what America means to me, freedom. I live in America, a nation of the free and the home of the brave. This is so important to recognize, because it shows how blessed I am. In the world right now, there are crazy events occurring, people dying everyday, individuals fighting for freedom, and looking for a home. I see it on the news everyday, but it never seemed important to me until now. During the revolution countless lives were lost, but with that loss there was a great gain, independence and freedom. Freedom isn’t just some word that gives you the ability to think, believe, speak, or worship, it gives hope and safety. Being in America is a privilege and the rights that come with it are a blessing. In the end, I am proud to be an American, to be a beacon of hope for those who need, yet I feel something it gone. The irony of this all is that we are not free, but taken captive by the sin around us. Over the years God has been lost among it all. This definition of freedom isn’t earthy freedom, not heavenly freedom. This has been something roaming inside my mind for awhile now. My nation is falling about at the seems, the foundation has fallen apart and it is now taking its building, America, with

Growing up in Ghana, I had heard a lot of things about the U.S. This was a country I had always wanted to visit; my prayer was answered when I got the opportunity to travel there. Arriving in a new environment came with many experiences. Adjusting with food, language and the weather was not easy. With the passage of time, however I have been able to0 adjust and fit it. This write-up therefore is to elaborate on my experiences since coming to U.S.

I didn’t believe in aliens until I was abducted by them. I was put in some kind of contraption and I’m not sure what happened exactly, but it’s clear that I’m not where I was. Everything in 2016 is different, I don’t know if I’m in a different state or not but people are dressing differently and acting differently, and the cars, the cars are all different! I’ve been here for quite some time now and have noticed a lot of differences from where I lived in Oceanside, California in 1940. I’ve been transported to the year 2016 and there are so many things that have changed and evolved and among them are political, economic, social, and cultural changes.

Although I was born in America, I have always felt like an immigrant. Why? Because I was a different race from the majority of the people around me. I live in Garrett County, where the majority of the population is white. My family was the only Chinese family in the county. On top of that factor, I had spent most of my toddler years back in Fujian, China with my grandparents. I came back to America when I was five years old and began Pre-K soon after my arrival. Throughout my years in public school, I have learned that the American identity is achieved by assimilation while retaining some unique characteristics.

Moving to the United States is a huge step for an immigrant. As an international student, I have been passing through this event that most Brazilian desire to. However, it is hard to adapt with the new culture and lifestyle, knowing that I have my own values. The “Two Ways to Belong in America” illustrates two views of getting used with this new culture, in which I identified myself with one of these ways: my nationality cannot be change with a simple paper called green card. Thus, starting a new life in a foreign country is tough because I have to find a way to readjust to this new culture, not ignoring

Johnnie, Veronica, Frank et al. do me a solid with all your “knowledge” and “wokeness” step outside your educational privilege and support systems for a minute. I in no place in my post said anything about America being perfect so what you did was hijack a status about the solidarity I feel for the people in my life and in this country who very much will struggle with an intensified troubling life experience in the country to PROVE you have some kind of exceptional wokeness or understanding of America. MISS me with it. No America was not safe for everyone but we just did was extend the people who it was unsafe for. If that’s cool with you then carry on with your bullshit. I have NEVER EVER said it’s a safe place for everyone. I have NEVER

I would like to see who could survive as long he did with just books that state some facts. We all have this idea that we could do better then anyone else. For example, the elections are coming up. Numerous people believed that Barack Obama was a lousy president and can not wait to see him leave. The same people also say how they would be a much better president than him. I have no idea how to run a country with millions of people in it and I have a very high suspicion that others who aren’t in politics no either. Just like this not everyone is an expert on how to survive in Alaska.

That’s basically all I could understand as I left the immigration center. People all around me were talking in languages I had only studied in textbooks, which barely helped. That was the first time I could really look around and see where I was. The sound of car engines roared in my ears as I walked across the street; people squashed into a small bus while chattering in a garbled language that made no sense. Everywhere I looked I saw chaos, and I couldn’t have been happier.

Writing is a miracle itself. Believing in miracles can make you a proponent of the second chance in life. Following your dream is life long pursuit of one’s purpose. Sometimes winds of destiny are inflating your sails; sometimes you hit a rough spot in the ocean. The drawbacks are good chance for reflection and readjusting. As a first generation immigrant I had the opportunity to witness myself the land of Opportunities and experience the concept of an American dream first hand. Deciding to come and live in the United States and leaving my whole family behind has been hardiest decision that I have made in my life so far. The doubt that this doubts about that decision has chasing me as a bad dream since the day I have arrived in the United States.

“American Dream.” Those two words are what drove my parents to escape the challenges of living in poverty stricken Colombia. Being a first generation, young, female, Latina immigrant my upbringing has made me fortunate enough to embrace all of the opportunities available for me.

Living in America gives us many freedoms and many blessings. I started my life in the Ukraine. This situation or circumstances I do not know. I came to America when I was 18 months old. A nice family, who lived in America, changed my life by adopting me. Being an

My “American Dream” wasn’t exactly my American Dream so I’m gonna make up some stuff. The way I will achieve my American Dream is to kinda try in school, just enough to pass it at least, and I will help out my community by doing things around in my area which is almost nothing because I live in the middle of nowhere. In school I will need to finish my English work and complete all of my aows. In Algebra I will have to try really hard because math is super important in life but math is extremely hard and and is dumb but you have to have it.

That day I walked back home from primary school is one I would never consign to oblivion (“Consign to Oblivion” is an exceptional song I would recommend). We were laughing and frolicking in painstakingly tailored school-clothes as we carried our backpacks and lunch-boxes on the dirt road. It was unbeknown to me that I would no longer see my dear friends again. As I took off my shoes and entered the dwelling, I saw my mom`s troubled face and immediately realized the severity of the situation. It took mere minutes for my parents to elucidate this predicament and devastate my six-year-old world. America? Why?

Some people view the outside world as a dangerous place full of disparity and misery, others like to embrace that unknown and try to use it as a catalyst for inner growth. I like to see myself as the latter, the individual who lives for the rush of the unknown. I looked down to see what I could only describe as a dream come true. It was a ticket for a six month tour around Asia that would lead to the complete immersion of native culture and tradition- Vietnamese Pho, the mountain folk of Nepal, the Muay Thai martial arts of Thailand, Chinese Architecture and the beaches of Laos are some of the places that we got to experience first-hand. As a participant I was expected to live with 15 other individuals from around the world that I had never